56 hour Chinese –

The reading of the Play was over and everyone stood up and clapped and then it was time to return to Toronto.
There was a two hour stop over in Philadelphia.
Then there was a three hour delay.
Then we got on the plane and everyone was complaining about connecting flights and not enough room in the overhead cabins for the shite they bought while waiting.
Soon everyone was seated and buckled in and nothing was happening.
There was a quare whine out of the heating vents overhead.
A German fella beside me kept looking at his watch. He had an out of control moustache, brown jacket and tie and smelled like tobacco.
Soon the captain announced there was a problem with the air-conditioning and we’d all have to get off again while it was fixed.
The stewardess in the lounge told us the flight would be delayed for another three hours but not to go anywhere in case it was sooner.
So I went for a Chinese and a pint in that order.
Talked shite to a fella in the airport bar about the Stock Market. Reckoned he had it solved. Made five million last year on buying low and selling high. “That’s all you gotta do, buddy…’
Sure this is great material. Characters like this. I might write about it someday. You wouldn’t know. Pint there, barman, and whatever Gordon Gecko is having here.
After a while he had a flight to catch to Vegas so he left.
Speaking of flights, I decided to head back to see what was happening.
I had a bad feeling when the airport lounge was empty.
There was the silent echo of human activity, but not a living soul except for the stewardess talking rapidly on the phone by the desk.
I walked up and she saw me and asked: “ARE YOU MICHAEL DONNELLAN?!”
It was hard to know how to answer. (Maybe she’d read my stuff?) So I said: ‘Yeah…am…’
‘OH MY GOD! You’re the guy we’ve been waiting for!’
This definitely sounded good til she said: ‘Didn’t you hear your name being called?’
‘Eh….you called my name?’
‘For the last 45 minutes! Where did you go?!
‘For a Chinese. And a pint….’
‘But you were supposed to stay here!’
‘You said there would a three hour delay….’
‘I said “Up to” three hours. The whole flight is waiting for you! We’ve been calling and calling…’
She picked up the phone. All panic and shouted: ‘He’s here. Don’t take off his bags!’
She hung up. Turned, took my ticket and ushered me in.
On the plane. Everyone clapped sarcastically and I took a seat. Listened to the buzz of the engine and tried to ignore the hateful looks.
Thirty minutes later the pilot said: ‘We’re just waiting to taxi. Due to the DELAY…. there are now seven other flights ahead of us. Please be patient.’
No one felt patient. The German fella turned and asked: ‘Where did you go?’
‘For a Chinese. And a pint.’’
‘You Irish, you’re always drinking.’
Then the pilot came back on and said we’d all have to get off again. There’s a storm gathering in Toronto and by the time we get there it’ll be too dangerous. Everyone sighed again. Probably no flight tonight.
We all got off. There was pandemonium inside. People wanted complimentary food and hotels and new flights.
The German fella kept shouting about his luggage.
Everyone seemed to think it was the Irish prick’s fault for going for a Chinese and a pint.
Four hours passed and they announced a hotel. There’d be no flight tonight. Everyone got a voucher for a bottle of coke and a sandwich was told to queue for a booking on the next flight tomorrow.
–
So how long did it take to get back to Toronto in the end, Micky?
56 hours all up.
Did you get rich off the Stock Market since?
Not yet, no.
Was it a nice Chinese?
It fuckin was.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.